by Tyla Pallas
For some reason I decided a Swastika on his forehead would be appropriate, don’t ask me why, it just did. The second I’d finished and just put me marker pen away the blokes eyes shot open. He immediately thought we were trying to pickpocket him. I told him we were just checking if he was breathing. He scowled at us, he knew we were up to no good, we still had a good twenty minutes of the journey left and we just had to sit there in this awkward silence trying not to laugh and him sitting there looking very, very serious at us, thinking ‘You Bastards I know you’re up to something.’ The best was yet to come as we pulled into Newcastle as with many stations it was in a tunnel, so on looking out of the window you could see your own reflection. Any minute now we thought he’s gonna cop a look at himself and go ballistic. But lucky for us he didn’t, he was a big hard looking bloke as well. The train finally pulls in and off we get and we’re behind him we see as he walks past people them nudging each other, an giggling, looking at the massive swastika on his bonce. I bet he was bloody furious when he finally discovered it!
In the year 2002 we, the Dogs were lucky enough to get the Alice Cooper support - 25 shows around Europe and the UK. We got to meet him after the 2nd show in Paris, I’d done a painting of him so I got to give it to him, he seemed to like it.
- Is it oils? He asked.
- Acrylics. I answered.
- Oh right... He said and walked off mumbling something about snakes.
Anyway at the end of the tour in Portugal we were all having dinner and afterwards we were talking and I asked him who was the most interesting person he’s ever met. He then told us that back in the 70s, when he was riding the 1st waves of success, Salvador Dali had wanted to paint him. So for three days he was in the company of the great Spanish artist. At the end of the 3 days there was to be big party, lots of androgynous bodies flowed, as did the wine. In came Gala, Dali’s wife and muse dressed as Fred Astaire followed by Dali in a huge flowing cloak. Dali sat down at the table and from out of his cloak he pulled a jar of honey then a pair of oversized scissors, he poured the honey into a glass of hot water and when I guess he’d judged the amount required he simply cut the honey with the scissors. Alice in the meantime said to Dali,
- its been wonderful to meet you these last few days, but I must admit I have not understood a word you have said.
- ‘Perfect’ said Dali.
- Confusion is the best form of communication.
Dali then up and left in a flash. Cool eh?
Wolverhampton circa 1993. One bright and sunny morning whilst on tour promoting ‘More Unchartered Heights Of Disgrace’ we happened upon a Guesthouse not far from where my sister lived. I was suffering from the fear and drinking Purdy’s a health food drink I’ve drank since the 80’s. For some reason it has always helped me when suffering from a hangover, I only get hangovers on occasions when I have either drank far too much alcohol and mixed my drinks, and smoked too much tobacco and left handed woodbines, as I’m sure most of you reading this do, or have. I also get them from drinking too much cheap red wine into the early hours and not sleeping enough (I have since discovered the magic of milk thistle) anyway I was standing in the car park next to our van when this little old geezer with the biggest white bushy burners I’d seen since Noddy Holder’s back in the day of mirror top hats, appeared from out of nowhere and started up a conversation with me along the lines of
- Lovely day innit? Are you a fan of Mohammed Ali? - Well I wouldn’t say I’m an ardent follower, but I know who he is. I watched his fights when I was a kid and I’ve seen him on Parkinson, I especially remember the one where Freddie Star scared the shit out of him.
- Well come an have a look at this then. He replies, and wanders off in the direction of what I assume is his house, an extension built on to the back of the guest house about as big as a large caravan with French windows as the entrance. Inside I was amazed to see the most photos I’ve ever seen in one place of the same subject matter, the subject being Muhammad Ali. From promo shots to ones obviously taken by an unprofessional hand and the piece de resistance being a life size photo of the sporting legend, next to the rather large TV. All of them I might add were framed, from floor to ceiling everywhere, every available space, including statues and caricatures and odd little trinkets such as mugs, tea pots, key rings, tea towels, all with the face of the great boxers mush plastered all over them. Then he turned on the TV bunged in one of many videos with hand written labels marked ‘Ali’ on them. It was a recording of an American talk show where he was being interviewed about the fact that he followed Ali almost everywhere in the World. Ali embraced this, I think he said he got in on the guest list to every gig he ever did. There’s nothing more to tell you really, next thing my roadie came along and said we were all set to leave, and so I bid farewell to quite a simple man with an extraordinary hobby.
How complicated can it be to get a new pair of daisy roots? I’ll tell ya how complicated...
One day not long ago I sat down in a Pub in Kentish town to have a swift arf and a butchers at Classic Rock. I’m within the age limit of the average reader, so it shouldn’t be too shocking. Now I’d only been saying to my missus the day before that I wish someone would invent a half Chelsea boot half Creeper, with a couple of decent buckles, cause I’d buy them. So there I am pint in hand flicking through CR when what do I spy? An advert for a ‘Creeper Boot’ priced at £79.99 available from Underground Shoes. Great!
I remembered there is a little shop by Camden tube that does creepers cause I’ve spotted them a few times when walking past. So in I go and ask if they have any of these Creeper boots.
-Nah mate they stopped doin’ them years ago sir, and if you were to want a pair you’d be lookin at £500. They only make them in Japan, so they only go up to size 7 Sir!
- Well what about this then? I pulled out the ad for the £79.99 ones.
- Who they made by? TUK, Underground? They’re shite sir! an I can see those ones you’ve got on are shite too! I’ve got children sir and those companies employ children in sweat shops, I wouldn’t be seen dead stocking those shoes sir, wouldn’t be seen dead
- Oh I see! That’s terrible, so what would you recommend I get then, I wouldn’t want to be a part of contributing to child labour now.
- Here you go Sir! George Cox. You can’t go wrong here Sir!
- Ok, so I want some with a buckle on, size 10 Ta!
- Be right with you Sir! -There you go John and those are on the ‘ouse
John Altman the actor who plays Nasty Nick was in the shop and had come in to buy a pair of DMs which because he is off the telly cost him nothing.
-Good luck in the Heavy Metal Kids I mumbled in Nicks ear. It went unheard. Nick left.
So anyhow, I set about trying on a cool pair of original creepers (black leather, with buckle)
-Yeah these are great, how much? I said while walking up and down the shop testing for size and comfort. - £135 Sir!”
- Right sold! Do you accept cash? I know a lot of people have a problem with it these days.
I said jokingly. My attempt at a joke fell on deaf ears. Un phased I asked him
- What shall I do with these old Undergrounds then? put them on your shelf of dodgy faulty shoes made in Vietnam?
- No Sir, see that black box just outside the shop there Sir, (he said pointing to the dustbin outside) pop them on there Sir and someone will pick them up!
So I bid them fair well and did as he suggested placed my old shoes on the bin. No sooner had I done so than a Mohican punk picked them up and had a good old sniff. I informed him that they were indeed still in quite good nick, he nodded in approval and walked straight up to two Jamaican gentlemen and offered them the shoes for a fiver!
They declined the offer and he disappeared into the crowds with my sweatshop daisies.
No sooner had I gone across the crossing than I said.
- Hold on I need to make the buckle a bit tighter my feet are sliding out of the back
The trou
ble with buckles, they are like belts, and I always end having to make that extra hole with a hammer and nail on the chopping board at home. We went to the pub and had lunch. On our way past the shoe shop I nipped in and said I think they are a bit too big.
- No problem Sir! What you need are some in soles. Get the man a pair would you luv.
- £4.99 Please.
- Here you go keep the change, I said and slipped in the insoles. Yes that feels a bit more snug.
By the time I’d walked 100 yards I felt my feet slipping out the back around my heels, but the front for the shoes were fine.
-This is no good I’m going back to the shop - What you need are heel supports Sir! We don’t sell them but you’ll find Boots across the road will. You will find them stiff at first Sir, but they will wear in - Yes Madam how may I help you?
I crossed over, slowly to Boots, I felt like I was wearing concrete on each foot. Upon my entry to Boots I noticed quite a few Police inside, there had obviously been an incident.
- I’m looking for heel supports for my shoes, do you sell them? I asked the assistant.
He directed me towards the cough medicines.
- No! For my shoes, heel supports.
- Feet at the end of this isle please. I tracked down the plate’s section. Bloody hell! I’d never seen so many applications for plates. Corns, bunions. I have to give Boots that! If you’ve got trouble with yer plates of meat, they have the solution. I stopped short of buying a foot spar, and found what I thought I could fix my problem with. A great big padded plaster for £9.99. I could cut it up when I got home and id be sorted. That’s exactly what I did. I stuck a bit on the inside back of each heel. Nah, still a bit loose. I cut out two more bits of plaster and stuck them under the tongue of each shoe. Ah! That’s a bit better and I pulled the buckle as tight as I could, then suddenly. SNAP! The bloody buckle ripped out of the shoe.
- Fer Fucks sake! That’s it! I’m going back down the fucking shop!
- Hold on! I aint got any more shoes. Where are me trainers? I didn’t even wait for the bus, I was there in 20 minutes, ranting in my head all the way there, planning what I was going to say, bloody this, bloody that! £135! Look at this shoddy workmanship. I never had this problem with...
- That’s very unusual Sir, I will send them back to the factory first thing on Monday, you’ve just missed the man, he always comes early on a Friday to miss the traffic. Give us a call in about 10 days, ok Sir?
- Yeah cheers see ya. I said sheepishly
Ten days later I call them up.
- They’re not in yet Sir! Give it till after the weekend and try us again.
First thing Monday I called up. No answer. Finally at noon someone picked up.
-Yes mate- Yes they’re here. 20 minutes later I was in the shop. The usual bloke wasn’t there just two other geezers. I inspected the repair. I noticed they had only reinforced the one buckle.
- You’d have thought they would have reinforced both of them? I said.
- Mumble mumble, yeah, mumble mumble… I once again bid the shop fair well. Why I didn’t try them on there and then is beyond me.
I got home and tried them on. Low and behold the shoe that had been fixed would not go through he buckle strap due to the thickness of the sewing to reinforce. I called the shop.
- No mate he’s not here this week, He’s back next Monday!
Monday. Noon. I’m in the shop with my missus as ref.
- I’ll send them away Sir!......To the fact - No, no no, I don’t want to have to wait another month. All I want is a pair of shoes. I’ve given up on this pair, so here’s what I’d like. Either you give me my money back, or another pair of shoes. I’d prefer lace up’s or a credit note for £135.”
- We don’t do refunds Sir! It’s not in the policy of the manufacturer Sir! He wangled his way out of that option.
- Okay I said, have you got these in a size 10?
- We haven’t got any size 10’s Sir. Its a very popular size Sir
If its so friggin’ popular why don’t you stock more of them then, I thought. I also thought of everyone I knew with size 10 feet who would come to the shop now once I had left and I could hide and pounce in once he had got some for them to try on, like a nutter!
- I’ll have a look out back and see if there is any old stock Sir!
He came back with a pair of size 10 lace up black leather creepers. -Yeah these look ok, hold on what’s up with the sole here on this one it doesn’t join up? I enquired.
- You’ll find that’s so they will bend when you walk Sir! Its for the give. Sir, the give.
You had to give it to this guy. He was a quick thinker! I must interject here that if I’m ever confronted in any way its not until about an hour or a day or a week later that I suddenly think, bladdy hell I should have said such and such! So back to the story, err Tale…
- Well the other shoe is fine.
- You’ll find that will give as well Sir!
I tried them on and they seemed to fit snugly.
- Ok I’ll take them, are we square?
- No Sir! You get £20 back. We left the shop. Got back home and I sat down to try the shoes on. I’m not going to wear them in the street until I know they are ok. On tying them up guess what...SNAP!
- Oh fer fucks sake! Not again!
The same place as the buckle had snapped had snapped on this pair, even though they were lace ups.
- I’m not going back to that fucking shop again! I’ll take them down the Cobblers in Kentish town!
Off I went to the Cobblers in Kentish town.
- Awroyte mayte, Can you reinforce these on both sides please? I asked the Cobbler in Kentish town
- Yeah no problem.”
- And you see this bit here, well the bloke I bought them from said they were meant to be like that so they would bend when I walked, but the other one aint like that, is that right then? I asked him
- Nah that’s Bollocks! They just ran out of material mate. He told me dryly.
- Yeah I kind of somehow thought that. I said.
You’ll all be happy to know that they have not broken since, neither have they worn in and the uppers look as new as the day I bought them. Not my required style, but I do wear them occasionally when I don’t have to walk too far as they are heavy as hell.
Then one day whilst doing a spot of early morning shopping in Camden I came across a shop that stocked…wait for it, Creeper Boots!! I could not contain my excitement.
- Do you have these in a size 10?
- Of course. Yes. Came the reply I had wanted to hear.
- Did you hear that they have them and in a size 10 I shouted in whispering to Steph.
I tried them on and it was like friggin Cinderella. Bingo! Perfect fit. I forked out the £80 and wore them out the shop. There I was proudly walking up the High Street and I thought, I’m gonna go in that bloody shop an show the bastard these fuckers. But hold on.
- Hold on a minute Steph, I’ve just got to adjust this buckle slightly.
I knelt down and proceeded to adjust the buckle to make it a tad tighter.
- C’mon..c’mon…that’s it…that’s…SNAP!
- OH! NO! FER – FUCKSAKE!
We recorded ‘..In the Dynamite Jet Saloon’ at Black Barn Studios down in Ripley in Surrey, England back when it was less than two quid a pint by a long way. Robin Black the Gaffer, took us to what he described as the best Bistro in town and found a slug in his salad. Good job he wasn’t vegetarian! Our food was fine. While we recorded throughout he day we spent the nights held up at the local pub that was across the field from the Studio in the High Street. We would get there just before last orders and stay for the lock in, as we were staying there, its a good way for a landlord to get extra mileage out of guests who enjoyed a drink, or ten. Also staying there with us was our producer Mark ‘bad lad’ Dearnley. Twas on a wet and windy night that the landlord of the said boozer informed us that he would be going on holiday for a week or so but was le
aving the pub in the capable hands of his teenage son. Our lock ins got later and later and our preferred drinks became harder an harder to get.
- Our next delivery of beer ain’t till the end of the week guys, we don’t usually get through this much Guinness, Lager, and Jack Daniels and Coke in 3 days...
So we were reduced to drinking Malibu and Coke with Vodka, Gin and Rum eventually, for we had drunk all the beer both on tap and by the bottle. Ha ha! What an achievement! It was also on a wet an rainy night that a stranger and his mate offered to take me up on a drinking contest.
-What’s the wager? they asked
- I’ll put up a couple of Grand for Tyla- said Dearn
- Right we’ll be back in a bit, they said.
We never saw them again.
- Shame that. I could have done with an extra couple of Grand, it’s my round! Said the Dearn.
We took over Stanbridge Farm studio in the early nineties and required so much red, white and rose wine that the vineyards in both Italy and France had to employ extra grape treaders and the bloke at the cash and carry in Hayward’s Heath retired to Florida on his six months takings. After I set fire to the pool table, in the name of art, that cost me a week’s wages I also broke my arm after falling off the damned thing and went in off the black to boot! Our Lunchtimes were spent in the Victory Inn a short hike across a few fields up, back in the days when they closed at 3 o’clock thus forcing us back to rehearsal until tea time at 7pm. We would then travel to the recording studio a few miles away and return in the early hours of the morning to do it all over again. I managed to persuade John, the Landlord of The Victory to buy an upright piano and had Scabs (Sound engineer and skinner up of spliffs) go and purchase Chaz and Dave’s greatest hits for Henry, our keyboard player to learn for the New Year Eves party. Henry took offense to this request, shouting something about being classically trained as he slung his herbal tea up the dining room wall and demanded to be driven back to London. Scabs was given orders not to do any such thing and Henry skulked of to his keyboard to ‘do his homework’ Come New Years Eve after an all day session on the lash we all slipped away before 11pm leaving Henry to perform into the early ours playing such classics as ‘Roll out the Barrel’ ‘ Darlin’ there aint no pleasin’ you’
